Forged in the Dawn

by Gavin Zanker

  Aiden felt something hit him behind, cutting a gash in his forearm. The crowd were anxious for blood and were harassing the fighters with a pelting of rocks now. He grabbed the fallen stone and threw it as hard as he could. It took the bear in the side of the face, and it roared in frustration.

  The bear lurched forward, gaining momentum as it barrelled towards Aiden. He dropped into a low crouch and waited as death accelerated towards him. At the last second, he rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the swiping claws. He came up running, putting distance between himself and the desperate beast.

  Risking a look back, Aiden saw a man drive a spear into the bear’s face, lancing its eye. The bear lashed out, knocking its attacker from his feet. He came up clutching his side and limping away as more rocks rained down on the animal from all directions.

  The beast roared again, weaker this time, then slumped to the ground, snorting loudly as it struggled to breathe. A cheer went up among the surviving men as the crowd booed above them. One of the fighters holding a dagger grew bold and ran up to the wounded animal, plunging the blade into the bear’s neck. It responded by snapping at the man’s leg, pulling him to the ground. It dragged itself on top of the screaming man, pushing down on his head and crushing his skull with its immense weight.

  Aiden walked up to the wide-eyed Luke who had done nothing in the fight and snatched the spear from his grasp before striding towards the dying animal.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered to the bear as he drew closer. ‘You shouldn’t have gone out like this.’

  The crowd got to their feet, sensing the killing blow was imminent. The bear looked at Aiden with its one remaining eye, then closed it slowly as if accepting its fate. Aiden raised the spear high, and brought it down with all of his strength, smashing through the bear’s eye socket and piercing its brain.

  THE ROOM WAS lit by hanging lanterns which cast long, dancing shadows over the sand-covered floor. The survivors of the fight sat around on benches, each caught up in their own silence.

  ‘You Aiden?’ a man asked.

  Aiden opened his eyes to see a man wearing a flat cap at an angle. ‘I am,’ he answered. ‘Who wants to know?’

  ‘The name’s Patches, on account of me patching people up around here. Get it?’ The man grinned down at Aiden, showing a row of brown teeth.

  Aiden looked back at him with a blank expression, too exhausted to engage. ‘The arena employs a doctor?’

  ‘Can’t have all the fighters dying of gangrene, bad for business that is. Besides, “doctor” is a grand term for what I do. Someone called me “the resident sawbones” once. I quite liked that. Nice fella he was too. Until the rats chewed off the poor sod’s face one night.’ Aiden glanced at the corners of the room in alarm, half expecting to see swarms of rodents running around. ‘Ah don’t worry. We set traps for ‘em now. Anyway, I hear you caught a bit of a scratch earlier so let’s have a look at you.’

  Patches crouched down and peered at the wound on Aiden’s arm. He pushed it roughly with his thumb, the pain causing Aiden to flinch away.

  ‘What the hell!’ Aiden shouted, clutching his arm as fresh blood seeped through his sleeve.

  ‘Nope, it’s no good,’ Patches said, swinging his bag off his shoulder. ‘That fella’s gonna need stitches. Take that rag off and I’ll close it up.’

  Aiden caught sight of metal tools and scraps of cloth in the bag. ‘I hope you aren’t planning to give me tetanus.’

  ‘Nah, don’t worry,’ Patches said, pulling out a needle and thread. ‘No one’s ever died from my stitching before. Then again, most don’t last long around here anyway, so who knows, right?’

  ‘That’s reassuring.’

  After the fight, Aiden was too exhausted to argue so he lay his head back against the rough brick wall and closed his eyes. A conversation started across the room, and he listened as the doctor stitched his arm.

  ‘Kiln Boys? Aye, I ran with them for a while.’

  ‘I thought I recognised the tats. What are they like?’

  ‘Hard men. You can’t survive up north near the mountains unless you’re tough.’

  ‘Why’d you leave?’

  ‘Call it a difference of opinion. Me and the leader Trent didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. One day it turned sour, and I had to leave town save my skin.’

  ‘You knew Pretty Boy Reid? I heard stories about him. Isn’t he a psycho?’

  ‘Aye, I knew him. And that was back when he was still pretty too. Back when you could use that nickname without him cutting your throat in a rage. Bet you didn’t know I was there when he got that scar across his face.’

  Aiden opened his eyes to see most of the men in the room listening to the story. He looked over at the speaker, recognising him from the fight. It was the tattooed fighter who had helped rally the men against the bear.

  ‘Patches, who’s that?’ Aiden asked.

  The doctor followed his gaze. ‘That’d be Callum. Been around here longer than I have. I’ve stitched him up enough times. Tough as nails he is. Fella never seems to lose out there when the blood starts hitting the ground.’

  ‘One day Trent called me and a few of the Boys over to the bar,’ Callum said, continuing his story. ‘Told us we were heading out to hunt for some new blood. So we saddled up and set out on the wagon to raid some farms out of town. We headed west for most of the day, ending up out near Stryss Forest.’

  ‘I thought Kiln Commons was run by the Kiln Boys. Why didn’t you just take some people from town?’

  ‘Stop asking questions will you?’ someone chided. ‘I’m trying to listen.’

  ‘I asked Trent the same question,’ Callum continued. ‘He said you shouldn’t dump where you eat or something. I didn’t really get it, but I saw what happened to the last guy that argued with him so I kept my mouth shut. So anyway, we’re on the edge of the forest resting the horses, when this pretty little brunette wanders in to view. Just out there in the middle of nowhere holding a basket of berries without a care in the world.’

  ‘Once she saw us, she took off like a rabbit. We rode her down of course, but she had some fight in her. Took her knife to the boss’ face. Cut his cheek good, from his eye right down to his mouth. Blood everywhere. I never saw him lose it like he did that day. He dragged her away through the trees and took his time with her. The screaming went on for so long we thought we were going to have to make camp for the night.

  ‘Eventually he carried her back out to camp and dropped her on the wagon, unconscious and barely breathing. We never did find out where she came from. Never heard her say a word, not even after what he did to her. When we got back to town, he disappeared inside with her slung over his shoulder and I never saw her again. My guess is he killed the poor girl slow for that mark she put on him.’

  Blood coursed through Aiden’s body and his head pounded as he listened to the story. The time, the place, it all seemed to fit. He rose to the protest of Patches, and walked over to Callum.

  Callum glanced up as Aiden approached. ‘I saw you fight that bear today,’ he said. ‘You did well out there. Keep that up and you might survive in this place for a while. What’s your name, boy?’

  ‘Aiden.’

  ‘Good to fight with you, Aiden. Makes a change to see someone who can handle themselves.’

  ‘The woman you took. What was her name?’ Aiden asked, the question tumbling out.

  ‘The broad?’ Callum sucked his teeth and looked up at the ceiling. ‘We did find an old drivers licence on her. Been a while since I thought about it. Kathy? Kacey? Something like that.’

  ‘Kate?’ Aiden asked, his heart hammering.

  ‘Kate, that was it. How did you know that?’

  Aiden’s muscles trembled and his mind raced as he tried to process the information. He was looking at one of the men who took Kate.

  ‘I see a dangerous fire in your eyes, boy,’ Callum said, standing slowly as he met Aiden’s unblinking stare. ‘You’re going to tell me you
knew that woman, aren’t you. And she meant something to you.’

  Aiden managed to nod while his stomach somersaulted in his gut. ‘Is she dead?’ he blurted out, his voice breaking.

  ‘Aye, I believe she is.’

  Aiden felt a pain lance out through him, as if he had been stuck in the chest. The world retreated, his vision blurring as he heard the truth he had been unable to face.

  ‘I don’t know how much of that you heard, but me and Trent didn’t exactly see eye to eye,’ Callum said. ‘If I told you I wanted no part of it, would that make any difference to you? I suppose it wouldn’t,’ he continued, without waiting for an answer. ‘I can’t imagine you can forgive a man who stole something that precious away from you. But hear me when I say this. You wouldn’t take me, boy. Not with that arm, I can promise you that.’

  Aiden glanced at his half-finished stitches and realised the man was right. He would stand no chance in his injured state going up against a veteran like Callum.

  ‘Rest up,’ Callum said, sitting back down. ‘If you’re still sore about what happened when you’re healed then you just say the word and I’ll meet you out there on the sand.’

  ‘I can’t forgive,’ Aiden said, his brow set in a frown as he stared down at the sandy floor. ‘You took her,’ he said, his voice still tinged with disbelief. ‘You took my wife from me.’

  ‘I ain’t proud of some of the things I’ve done,’ Callum said. ‘We all have to pay for our actions in the end and it’s probably about time I paid for some of mine. Don’t worry, you’ll get your fight, Aiden. I’m not one to rob a man of his vengeance.’

  Aiden nodded at Callum, surprised at the man’s measured response, then headed back to his seat where Patches was waiting. He lay down on the bench, resting an arm over his eyes to hide his streaming tears, feeling nothing as the doctor finished stitching his arm.

  CHAPTER 11

  THE CROWD’S CHEERING vibrated the stands as Aiden ripped the spear from Luke’s rib cage and stabbed it into the sandy floor of the arena. He leaned against it, his lungs still catching up with the exertion. The fight had been quick and brutal, with only three men left standing. No animals this time, just slaves against slaves.

  Aiden looked at the other two survivors. Callum raised his large wooden club over his head as he drank in the excitement of the crowd, blood still dripping from a shallow cut in his chest. The other survivor was a towering man called Adam who stood sullenly, eyes downcast. Aiden had never seen him speak more than a few words, but he fought with the strength of five men and Aiden was glad he had been on their side in the battle.

  ‘Hey, boy,’ Callum said, approaching Aiden with sweat glistening across his bare shoulders. ‘That arm of yours ain’t troubling you no more. I reckon it’s probably time, don’t you?’

  Aiden looked sideways at Callum. Against all of his better judgement, he had discovered over the last week that he did not hate the man. He was honest, upfront, and had an honour about him that was so absent from the world these days. Then he would remember what Kate must have gone through, and he knew there was no avoiding what was to come.

  ‘I guess this is as good a time as any,’ Aiden said, nodding.

  Callum plucked Aiden’s spear from the ground and tossed it to him before striding away. The fighter turned and faced him, hefting his club over his shoulder.

  ‘May as well give these people a show then,’ Callum said.

  Aiden dropped into a low stance, his spear extended as the two men began slowly circling each other. The crowd, most already standing to leave, began cheering as they caught on to the unscheduled fight taking place below. Adam turned and ambled away towards the portcullis, showing no interest in the fight about to happen.

  Callum made the first move, rushing forward and swinging his club wildly. Aiden ducked under the blow, and lashed out with his spear, but missed as Callum rolled away.

  Aiden stabbed his weapon forward again, the point of his spear snaking towards Callum’s chest. The large man sidestepped with surprising grace, and batted the spear away with the handle of his mace.

  ‘Not bad,’ Callum said. ‘You’d make a fine pit fighter. But you fight like a robot. Where’s the fire, boy?’

  As he finished the sentence, he charged Aiden again. Taken by surprise, Aiden had no time to strike as the man’s shoulder cannoned into his chest, knocking him from his feet. His spear tumbled from his grasp as he fell. Landing face down, Aiden rolled over to see the mace swinging down in a vicious arc towards his head. He rolled away, scooping up the fallen spear.

  Callum pressed towards him instantly, his mace connecting with Aiden’s forearm. He cried out in pain at the impact. Leaping out of reach of his opponent, he tried to level his spear but found his arm too painful to move.

  Callum spread his arms. ‘You stood a decent chance, I’ll give you that. But now,’ he nodded towards Aiden’s limp arm, ‘we both know how this ends.’

  ‘So come and take your victory then,’ Aiden said through gritted teeth, gripping the spear tightly with his working hand.

  ‘I’ll make it quick, boy. You deserve that at least.’

  Callum walked away, waving his arms and riling up the crowd until they were on their feet. Then he turned, dragging the heavy club along behind him as he began a slow run towards Aiden, gradually picking up speed until he was sprinting. Aiden crouched low, holding the spear ready, the deadly point extended. The pit fighter spun at the last second, swinging his momentum around into the club. As the weapon arced through the air, Aiden lashed out with his boot, connecting with the man’s kneecap just as his weight transferred on to it. There was a sickening crack as Callum’s leg bent backwards, his weapon flailing uselessly through the air.

  Aiden brought his knee up into the falling man’s chin, sending him reeling back to the floor. He brought his spear to bear on the dazed man, resting it on his throat.

  Callum’s eyes softened as he came to and realised he was beaten. Aiden nodded almost imperceptibly, then using his good hand, he raised the spear high. He took a deep breath, then brought it down with all his strength on his opponent’s chest. Callum gasped as the blade pierced his heart, his head falling limply to the side as his last breath escaped his lips.

  Aiden stepped back, sweat pouring down his forehead and his heart threatening to hammer its way clear out of his chest. He had killed one of the men that had taken his wife, but he felt no relief, no joy. Nothing.

  He looked up from the dead fighter, seeing the crowd-filled stands on their feet cheering. Their noise was muted, as if coming from a great distance. He took a breath that filled his ears with a rushing sound. Turning on his heel, he headed for the portcullis where Adam sat watching impassively.

  CHAPTER 12

  AIDEN WAS AWAKENED by the sound of footsteps approaching across the cell. He moved his arm lazily away from his eyes and peered up with bleary eyes at the figure. A tall man dressed in dark green army fatigues, with a stern face and closely cropped hair.

  ‘Aiden Fielding, 36 years old,’ the man said, reading from a file he held. ‘Recently serving a ten year sentence for numerous violent offences, until caught attempting to escape. Subsequently consigned to the Grand Arena as punishment. Sounds like you’ve had an interesting few weeks.’

  ‘You know me then,’ Aiden said, sitting up slowly, his muscles still aching from the fight with Callum yesterday. ‘You don’t look like you’re here to fight, so what is it you want?’

  The man folded his arms. ‘I watched you fight. I was impressed.’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t do autographs, so if that’s all? I’d appreciate you letting me get some rest.’

  The man ignored the comment and continued. ‘I’m not often impressed, son. Most people these days run on instinct and rage alone. Seeing people fight is like seeing wild animals go at each other. All tooth and claw. But not you it seems. I watched you take down Callum Wright, one of the most respected veterans in this place.’

  Aiden shrug
ged. ‘Is this going somewhere or are you just here to bother me?’

  The man remained silent, his cold grey eyes studying Aiden. Aiden looked the man up and down, noting the well-maintained pistol holstered at his belt, coupled with the polished boots, and figured him to be either military or police.

  ‘My name is Kane Harris. I’m here to make you an offer.’

  ‘What sort of offer would that be, Kane Harris?’

  ‘I operate a private security force known as the Seekers.’

  ‘The Seekers? I’ve heard that name before.’

  ‘You should have. I’ve worked hard to create a professional reputation. My team is currently employed by the Dawnists to act as security at their compound within the city.’

  ‘Dawnists?’ Aiden said with a laugh. ‘You guys keep turning up everywhere. Are you going to save my soul from damnation? I should tell you, I’m not much for religion.’

  ‘I’m not in the business of saving souls, son. But to clarify, my team is merely contracted by the Church. Belief is not a requirement to be a part of my company. However, following orders is. So tell me this, can you follow orders?’

  Aiden looked up at Kane, the cold steel in his eyes betraying the importance of the question. ‘That depends on the orders.’

  ‘A man should have a code,’ Kane said with a nod. ‘I need people that can think on their feet and adapt to fluid situations. But at the end of the day, I need to know my team can follow my orders.’ Kane flipped through the file again. ‘It says in your notes here that you have a problem with authority.’

  Aiden pulled himself to the edge of the stone bench, swinging his legs over the side. ‘Only when the authority declares me guilty until proven innocent and locks me in a cage.’